


A travelogue for exiles

by Kaesteranya



Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange sort of sanctuary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A travelogue for exiles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 31 Days theme for November 15, 2005.

Fayt, his traveling companions and the rest of the Diplo’s crew had known well before he had even joined their party that Albel Nox was a difficult person, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. The Elicoorian was undoubtedly the best fighter in the party next to Cliff, but when he wasn’t fighting he was insulting anyone who happened to be in the general vicinity. When he wasn’t doing that he was the silent, reproachful shadow in his room or haunting the corridors, wrapped up in its own darkness and distant no matter how close anyone approached.

  
Although they never actually talked about it, Cliff knew that as it was between Fayt and Albel, he and Albel also shared some sort of understanding: he figured that it was wrought out of the many times they had found themselves standing back to back, shedding the blood of everything around them but their own. He, like Fayt, was the only one whom Albel _didn’t_ insult anymore, but unlike Fayt, when Albel looked at him there was something else beyond the emptiness buried beneath those crimson eyes.

  
One evening he walked the corridors of the Diplo and found Albel in the sick bay, hunched at the side of one of the beds, clutching a burnt and mangled mess that Cliff figured must’ve been his arm close to his chest. The gauntlet lay on the table, mocking Albel with the sight of his own reflection in its claws, bent over and shaking from the strain of not crying out. Cliff’s concern nearly cost him his head, for Albel grabbed his sword and took a swing at him the moment he approached. This did not daunt the Klausian in the least.

  
It was ridiculously easy to subdue Albel that evening: something had snapped in the swordsman, reducing him to a little boy whose anger could do nothing but hurt its source. Cliff would have laughed at this the moment he had Albel pinned to the bed were it not for the sight of the younger man looking away from him, crying without sound. It took a few gentle words and a long, slow kiss to coax Albel back into a state almost like normal. Cliff offered to bandage him up once he was calm. Albel only snatched up his gauntlet and silently left the room.

  
Three nights later, Albel turned up at Cliff’s door. Cliff let the younger man inside and brought him to bed. He never asked him why, and Albel never told him.  



End file.
